


Then

by trialanderror12



Series: Now and Again [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Did I mention angst, Fluff, M/M, Prequel, Protective!Thor, Thor’s turn for feels, happy!Loki, odin is a manipulative jerk, read the sequel after cause it’s short and gives this a happy ending?, well at least for a little while anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 01:13:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3310349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trialanderror12/pseuds/trialanderror12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor and Loki are enjoying a lazy morning in bed when Odin walks in on them. That really, really doesn’t end well. Hope I made up for the angst with all the fluff at the beginning. (someone please write me new summaries)</p><p>Prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3281627">Now</a>, but can be read as a standalone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thor breaks the kiss and pulls back, staring down at the silky fan of black hair haloed around his angel’s face. Loki slowly opens his eyes and smiles up at him languorously, the corner of his mouth tilted upward in a smirk that reads contentment. Thor speaks before he can stop himself.

“Lend me your powers, brother.”

Loki grins now, locking his hands behind his head and reclining further into the decadent mess of golden pillows that surround them. “Oh, very well,” he says lazily, and the free and unfettered _openness_ in his tone and posture pulls at Thor’s heartstrings; he knows few are so privileged to see Loki this way, and a selfish part of him wants to be the only—to snatch Loki away from friends and subjects alike and keep him here all to himself, protected and cherished in his arms forevermore. “What would you have, brother? A never-ending fountain of ale? A thousand armies to lead to battle? A fawning _admirer_ at your beck and call, ready and willing to satisfy your every need?” Loki’s teasing grin grows wider, and Thor would tell him he looks far too pleased with himself except they both know he loves it. Loves him. “What spell may I cast to meet with your approval, my liege?”

Loki may be joking, but Thor isn’t. He doesn’t hesitate, though his voice almost breaks. “Make this moment last forever.”

Loki’s eyes widen at that, and while moments ago Thor had been sure that nothing could make his trickster more beautiful, he now finds himself searching for room for his heart to expand to contain all the love he has for this wonderful, maddening, glorious creature. He must fail, for his chest pulls tight and his heart feels about to burst. He soothes the ache by stealing another kiss, his lover’s lips a healing balm against his own.

Loki whimpers when the kiss ends, surging upward and reclaiming his mouth with renewed hunger. There’s a sort of desperation in his touch that Thor has never felt from him before, and he welcomes it as he does all things Loki gives him—with gentleness and reverence and a small voice in the back of his head that never stops wondering what he could possibly have ever done to deserve something so perfect as this.

The moment shatters when the great double doors behind them slam open, and the Allfather bursts into the room. Thor turns at the waist to assess his father’s intent, but makes no other move to detach himself from Loki. The Allfather’s thunderous expression has struck fear in the heart of countless lesser mortals, and he can feel Loki’s pulse racing tremulously beneath him. He slides into a protective stance between them, poised to defend but unwilling to relinquish a steadying grip around Loki’s wrist. Practically, it matters little. For all he wishes he could spirit Loki away and protect him from all the forces of nature and the universe, Thor knows he would never stand a chance in true combat against the Allfather, one-handed or otherwise.

“Thor.” The booming voice brooks no argument, and it takes all his willpower not to flinch under the fury of his gaze. “With me. Now.” With that he spins on his heel, cloak billowing after him, and Thor knows well he has precious little time to follow. 

With a parting caress to Loki’s wrist, he makes to stand—but Loki will have none of that. He grabs his arm and pulls him back down, and Thor folds himself into a sitting position on the edge of their makeshift bed. Thor’s heart twinges—Loki looks frightened. Well, that makes two of them, but Thor tries to erase any trace of fear from his own countenance for Loki’s sake. 

“Brother,” Loki says softly, the word at once a question and a promise and a caress, and Thor renews his internal vow to protect him, come what may, always. 

“Hush,” he admonishes, as gently as he’s able, and bends to press a kiss first to Loki’s forehead, then his lips. “All will be well.” He’s at least fairly certain his own father won’t kill him, anyway. For Mother’s sake, at the very least. He twines their fingers together and reaches up with his other hand to cup Loki’s cheek. “I love you,” he adds, for that is one thing he is certain of with all that he is—that he exists in this world largely in part to love Loki. It gives him meaning, moreso than everything else in their lives combined. 

Loki turns his head into the touch and then presses a kiss to his palm. “Be careful,” he implores, reluctantly releasing his grip on Thor’s hand. He hesitates, then, just for a moment—it’s harder, for him, even now—and then: “I love you, too.”

One last, hard kiss is all he can offer in return for the words—Father will be angry enough already, no need to delay things further—and he is achingly aware of what a paltry sum that makes when compared with what Loki means to him. He swiftly turns and makes his way after their father, before he can succumb to the urge to pull Loki back into his arms and attempt to spirit him away after all.

They are alone in the throne room when Thor arrives—no member of the court foolish enough to remain—and the Allfather stands with his back to him. He waits patiently, not so foolish himself as to think his presence has gone unnoticed, to be addressed. 

“Thor,” Odin finally says with a sigh, and Thor is surprised to hear more weariness in his voice than anger. The man before him seems more his father than his King. “I am very disappointed in you, but I cannot say I am surprised.” He turns his head slightly, casting an appraising eye over Thor, his face clearly displaying his measure: unimpressed. “You always have been rather unbearably selfish.”

Now _that_ startles Thor. “Selfish?” he echoes dumbly, unable to follow his father’s logic. Of all the things he’d imagined they’d be accused of if ( _when_ ) they were to be found out, _selfishness_ hadn’t come close to making the list.

“What else would you call it?” Odin snapped, spinning on his heel to face Thor properly for the first time since he’d caught him red-handed defiling his brother. “Allowing your basest desires to overwhelm your common sense, your dignity, your duty to your kingdom, to your _family_?” Odin throws his hands up in the air in question, and a seed of doubt plants itself somewhere deep in Thor’s heart. “What other name for that than the height of brazen, impetuous, unthinking selfishness?”

Thor’s voice cracks when he first tries to speak. It takes a moment to bolster himself to try again. “I love him, Father,” he says plainly, all the carefully-constructed explanations he’d had in mind thrown out the window. Wasn’t this the heart of the matter, anyway? What did it matter how things had come to pass, or why, or when? Thor isn’t sure he could answer the question of _when_ he’d first begun to desire his brother, anyway. He’s loved Loki as long as he can remember. Has no idea what a world without that love would look like.

“Of course you do,” Odin says, almost gently, and Thor finds himself again surprised and suspicious. “He’s your brother. Your _brother_ , Thor,” he emphasizes, and yes… Thor had been right to feel suspicion, though of course this is not an argument he’d failed to anticipate.

“I know that,” says Thor, reaching again for the logic he’ll need to defend them. “Of course we know that. I’m _in love_ with him, Father. Madly, unendingly, with all that I am. This is something we neither asked for nor have the power to change. We—”

“Thor,” Odin interrupts, again in that strangely mild tone, and Thor feels oddly like his father is trying to coax the understanding from a particularly slow child. “You fancy yourself in love with him, and for all I know you may well be. That may be your curse to bear in life; the weight of a love you can never have, and an unending journey to make your peace with it. But have you really deluded yourself so thoroughly as to believe that Loki is in love with you as well?”

Thor’s mind flashes back to Loki (Loki sprawled lazily in his bed that morning; Loki smiling, laughing with him; stolen moments and kisses and gasping breathy vows in the dark). His lips still tingle from the sharp bite Loki had left in parting from that last, desperate kiss. Yes, Thor knows that Loki is in love with him.

His father must read this certainty in his eyes, for he shakes his head sadly. “This isn’t what he wants, Thor. He just doesn’t know any better.”

An incredulous laugh bubbles up from Thor’s throat unbidden. “If there is one thing I am sure I know about Loki, it is that he has always been quite sure of _exactly_ what he wants. And armed with three or more plans to obtain it.”

“No,” Odin insists, and Thor can’t help but frown. “You have always been there in his life, Thor. A constant. A proud hero to look up to; a sure companion and protector at his side. Something easy and familiar and predictable; a crutch that allows him to easily fall into complacency. I am his father, but _you_ are his King.” Odin’s gaze pierces straight through Thor, latching onto that doubt and pulling forth growing roots, twisting and reaching and teasing out all the rope Thor needs to bind himself. 

“He may depend on you, worship you, desire you, but it is not love.” 

Thor swallows thickly. “What harm to love?” he asks quietly, eyes skittering guiltily away from his father’s gaze. “He is everything to me. I give to him of myself, all that I am able. What more can I do?” Thor’s voice breaks, just a little, at the end. He can’t bring himself to lift his eyes.

“All that you are _able_. That is key.” Odin’s stare burns holes into Thor’s drooped head for several long moments before he answers him properly. “You let him go, Thor,” Odin commands, taking a few steps closer. “You offer love, but he deserves your protection. You are his older brother; protecting him has been your solemn duty from the moment of his birth. What use is love? Surely you know he could find it anywhere, or do you imagine him so peculiar that only you could be capable of loving him?”

Thor shakes his head insistently _no_ at that; of course others could love Loki. He is so perfectly easy to love. His sharp wit, his surprising gentleness, the carefully concealed concern he holds for the wellbeing of all their subjects… And that hidden smile that makes his eyes alight that he shares so rarely, and only ever with Thor. No, falling for Loki isn’t hard. Thor is beginning to suspect that treating him properly—giving him what he deserves for his claim to that love—will be much harder.

“Then you do him a disservice by bartering love for protection when the one is highly more scarce and precious than the other.” Thor’s face wrinkles in confusion as he tries to wrap his head around what Odin is saying. “He has but one brother, and your job as such is to shield him from harm and protect him from those who would hurt him—even yourself, and however unthinkingly.” Odin appraises him for a moment. “You do not have the luxury to be unthinking. Not as the steward of Loki’s happiness. He deserves to make his own choices and experience true freedom—to choose his own partners, not remain shackled to the one most apparent and insistent. Or would you see him never become anything more than your carnal, twisted _toy_?”

Thor’s head snaps up with an audible crack. “Loki is _not_ a toy,” he nearly snarls, the force of his anger bringing him a moment where he forgets to whom he speaks. 

“No,” Odin agrees, letting the slight pass. “But you treat him as one. I mark your actions in the day—why should you treat him any differently at night? You always take charge, and he follows your lead. He might offer insight or advice, but you are quick to dismiss it without consideration if you have already decided you are right. He possesses many skills and talents, but you prefer brute force. Bold, hard, unyielding. Ever a warrior, no matter that the situation may require a gentler hand. _You_ will certainly not be the one to provide it.” Odin’s gaze is all-seeing, and Thor wilts under the assessment—an outsider’s view of all the faults he worries over at night, the traits he strives to improve. He’d thought he was changing. That Loki was making him better. But in light of Odin’s harsh evaluation, Thor feels only shame. He is not what Loki deserves. Loki is far, far better than Thor could ever hope to be.

And though deep in his soul he knows, _knows_ , that Loki wants him, he begins to mistrust his motivations. His lover’s blatant, unquenchable desire for him has always been a source of wonder in Thor’s mind. Loki is always so eager, so uncharacteristically forthright in asking for exactly what he wants in Thor’s life and his bed. No manipulation, no masks or tricks or games. Thor has always counted this a blessing; sought to return the joy it lit in his heart with loving words and tender caresses. But now he wonders. Is it all an act? Does Loki behave as he believes Thor would wish him to, carefully-constructed entreaties and pleas falling from his lips with practiced ease? 

Only a few hours before, Thor would have answered emphatically _no_. But cast in the light of Odin’s words, their lazy morning together takes on different hue. Thor recalls every moment clearly; a glorious stolen hour in the midst of long stretches of meetings of state where he can hardly so much as catch Loki’s eye. And where he had first felt joy and fondness, Thor now feels only uncertainty and fear. Loki had so readily agreed to fulfill his every whim, no mention of his own boundaries or desires. To summon forth whatever met with Thor’s approval; too eager to fashion himself a slave to Thor’s every wish. The vines creep closer to his neck and grow thorns. Is Father right? Does he treat Loki like a toy? Does Loki feel like one? 

“He has no power in your presence,” Odin continues. “He is bound by debt and duty to obey your every command. He looks up to you, he trusts your judgement. You could order him off the edge of a cliff and he would jump, not a single thought for his own well-being in his head. Ever-ready to bend to your will. Do you really think he would deny you the chance to take pleasure in him, whether or not that would be a path of his choosing if left to his own devices?” Thor opens his mouth, prepared to defend—Loki had _never_ been forced, would _never_ have anything to fear from him—but Odin sees him coming. “Please spare me the details of how you saw too to his pleasure—you could make it as good or as bad for him as you like, and he still would not refuse you.” Thor’s heart is pounding in his ears. His breath can’t quite make it to his lungs. “And still you use him, fashion your baby brother into little more than your plaything. Or do you like that, hmm? Trading in Loki’s innocence and happiness to slake your own selfish desires, lording over his future like a corrupt and heartless puppetmaster pulling his strings?”

The final loop of the noose. Thor hangs. 

“Please,” he begs hoarsely. “Please. No more.” He swallows thickly, and a few hot, fat tears spill down his cheeks. He has done this. He has corrupted and abused the one he loves most in this world. The most precious thing in his life, and Thor has ruined it. “How will I do it?” he asks, desperation coloring his tone. “I have destroyed him so already. How can I spare him hurt from this?”

Odin simply stares at him for a long while, weighing his dedication to this course. Thor knows he needn’t worry. He could never stand to see Loki harmed, and he is now well and truly convinced he has inflicted upon him more than his fair share with his ignorance. Even now he refuses to lay claim to ill will. He has never intended Loki harm. But what matter intent, when these were the consequences? 

“That, I do not know,” the Allfather says at last, turning his back once more to Thor and ascending his throne. “This is a mess of your own making. You must now lie in the bed you’ve made. Alone.”

Thor wets his lips, pressing just a bit harder on the spot Loki had bitten—just enough to make it hurt, to recall the sharp sting he’d welcomed as he’d kissed his lover for what it seemed would be the last time.

No, not his lover, Thor forcefully reminds himself. His brother, who he had done a great and unforgivable disservice in his own selfishness and greed.

“Leave me now,” Odin commands, the servants and courtiers beginning to filter back into the room by some unspoken order. “Do not ever make me speak of this to you again.”

Thor turns and flees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was supposed to be more of this (Thor actually breaking it off with Loki) but it got too long and this felt like a good place to stop. I may or may not come back and give this a second part anytime soon, but that's only because I have five more snippets in this universe going. Driving me a bit mad. 
> 
> I do really care what everyone thinks, so if this is not a good use of my time let me know and I have plenty of other ideas to move on to, believe me! This fandom has bitten me, and good.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _There_ you are!” Loki exclaims, and Thor flinches as he hears the sound of hurried steps against the stone floor from behind him. Loki is on him before he has even a moment to think, hands running all over Thor’s face, chest, shoulders; reassuring himself that Thor is all right and in one piece. “I’ve been looking for you for hours,” Loki says softly, hands resting gently against the curve of Thor’s neck now that his examination is complete. “What did Father say?”

The heat of his palms is so familiar and comforting, and Thor has to close his eyes to keep the image of that perfect, fretting face from overtaking his will and his better judgement. He has failed at that so many times before. He stands abruptly, Loki’s hands falling back to his sides, and takes a few steps away. He will not fail again.

Loki comes up behind him and runs a soothing hand up his spine. Thor startles and moves away. He can see Loki out of the corner of his eye now, shock the predominating emotion on his face. His hand is still raised in the air, at the height of the small of Thor’s back, completely frozen. It’s clear Loki doesn’t know how to react. So Thor must.

“Loki,” he begins, and he winces internally at the squeaky way it comes out. He clears his throat. “I… don’t think we should do this anymore.”

Loki’s eyes widen further, assessing Thor, unbelieving. “Really, Thor, what did Father say?” he asks again. He looks far, far calmer than Thor feels; more surprised than anything else. “This isn’t like you at all.”

A pained expression crosses Thor’s face unbidden at that, and Loki startles, his face a cross between hopelessly confused and sorry to have caused Thor any hurt. Gods, but Odin had been right. Unlike him, to put Loki’s needs above his own? Never, ever again.

“It’s nothing to do with Father,” he says, because really, it’s not. “I’ve just… realized some things. I don’t think this is good for either of us right now.” And okay, _that_ is a blatant lie. Loki is the most good and beautiful thing that has ever happened to him. But he means it enough the other way around, so his lie escapes detection.

Loki is frowning at him now, as if he’s a particularly difficult puzzle he needs to decipher. Thor wishes he’d stop. He’s not sure how much longer he can stand firm against the scrutiny.

“Loki, you’ll be all right. You’re—” the words catch in his throat and he shakes his head, unable or unwilling to praise his love outright while gathering the strength to leave him. Besides, he’d likely give himself away. “There is so much to love about you,” he offers gently, looking straight into Loki’s eyes and willing him to believe this, if nothing else. “You will find happiness. Just not here, now, with me.”

But Loki’s shaking his head, silky black tresses curling wildly at the motion; he isn’t going to give up without a fight. Thor doesn’t think he can bear one. “Thor—”

“No,” Thor cuts him off, more firmly than he intended, but if the startled and doubting look on Loki’s face is any indication, that might be a good thing. Thor can’t keep this up much longer. “I said this is over. I’m ending things. That’s final.”

Loki shows something resembling anger for the first time, and it’s like a knife in Thor’s chest even as he knows it heralds victory. “Did it ever occur to you that it isn’t solely your decision to make? That you might need to at least have a _conversation_ with the other interested party before unilaterally handing down orders?”

“We’re having that conversation now. It’s over, Loki. Please don’t push it.”

“Don’t push it? _Don’t push it?_ What the devil _happened_ to you in there?” Loki still sounds almost-but-not-quite angry; Thor would place him on the scale somewhere around _confoundedly annoyed_. “I am _not_ going to let this go, Thor. You haven’t even attempted to give me an explanation. You can hand down all the _decrees_ you like; I’m not going to stop asking for answers. I’ll follow you to the ends of the nine if I have to—you _will_ tell me what the hell is going on, before the end.”

Thor makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat, and Loki stops, the frustration and mild anger draining slowly from his face. He looks lost and adorably concerned, and Thor… Thor is just tired.

“I can’t do this, Loki. I just… I can’t.” He lets out a long, shuddering breath. “Can we just go to dinner now? Please?” Thor isn’t hungry in the least, but he has to get out of here. Be somewhere, anywhere, that he and Loki aren’t alone. He doesn’t know how to hold up his walls in only Loki’s presence. He has centuries of practice doing so anywhere else.

“But we _have_ to talk about this,” Loki says gently, taking a half step closer. “We can’t just… drop out of existence. Erased without so much as an _attempt_ at discussing it. We can’t.”

Thor can’t take the soft pleading in his voice. He’s long since passed exhausted. “Loki, please. Just… not now, okay? Not now.”

Loki’s eyes haven’t left his; they stare right through Thor, coaxing the truth from his soul. “Not never?” he asks, a hesitant note of hope in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Thor sighs, the closest truthful answer he can give, and he sees the conclusion materializing on Loki’s face. He projects it clearly: _Maybe, just maybe, this will be okay_.

As they make their way toward the dining hall Loki instinctively reaches for Thor’s hand; Thor takes a half step to the side just as their fingers brush—just out of reach, now. Loki recoils. Thor can read this new knowledge in him just as plainly: _No. It won’t._

Thor can’t help but agree with him. It never will be again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki was a lot more pissed about this originally, in my head. The original outline contained snapping and yelling and literally vanishing and making Thor find him to stop his sulking. But Loki wouldn't let me write it that way—he'd only give me love, and hurt, and this strange blend of wisdom and naïveté that I don't think would work on anyone else, but which seems perfectly suited to how I feel about his character at this point in this universe. He strikes me as hopelessly young, but utterly open and sure of everything he wants from Thor at this point in his life. And so he really can't believe what's happening—it doesn't make any sense. I'm not sure Loki really believes they're over, even right there at the end. Sadly things don't get much easier for him from here on out (at least not for a long, long while).


End file.
